


Terrible Human, living in the mansion

by an_earl



Series: Unidentified Human [2]
Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Conspiracy, Drama, Gen, Inner Palace Drama, Lukedonian Society, Noble Psychic Communication, Political Intrigue, Rumour, Scandal, Worldbuilding, Xenophobia, reputation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_earl/pseuds/an_earl
Summary: Did you hear what happened to that human?Him? He's dead.Have you seen the lights flicker on in that mansion?No. Turn your eyes away.Years ago an unidentified human in the wood was caught and killed. That was a lie. Hearsay.(A look at Lukedonia during its greatest social upheavel since the minor rebellion. Frankenstein has arrived.)
Series: Unidentified Human [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938127
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44





	Terrible Human, living in the mansion

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ankesenpaaten for doing a test read!
> 
> This does work as a standalone fic - however it's a sequel to [Unidentified Human](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20861951) which gives it more context.
> 
> Spoilers for every flashback arc in Noblesse, especially 287-295.

Once upon a time there was a man. He was a vindictive doctor who did not treat his patients well so much as he cared about beating death. One day his patient lay dying, and there was nothing he could do. He was arrogant, as he could not accept this. The story goes he speaks to the gods to no avail, so he goes instead to the devil, whom grants his wishes in exchange for his turning against the gods. The doctor, who ever only cared about conquering death, who thought eternal life could mean he could gain as much power as he wished to do so, agreed. They say that is why you should not go into the woods alone. The doctor is still alive, and his patients are undead, and he stalks the night hunting the gods…And that is what humans tell their children to keep them from playing too far from home. What fathers say to chastise their sons from staying out after dark. What mothers relay to their daughters to reprimand them from walking alone. What nobles say to to fellow nobles, scorning a human for his arrogance, his self-importance; _as if he can ever beat down a god; as if that hunt can ever succeed; how can this man seduced by darkness go on to spread discord; how dare he, how dare he think above his station, his place is with the rest of the mayflies; all humans die — all humans die an insignificant death—_

* * *

It is like…experiencing déjà vu. Nobles pass it around like a shared dream, faint but remembered, in the open channel of their thoughts to their companions, their kin. Humans may need to speak their stories, but nobles do not. They share thought as humans do speech: images from afar, ghosts of a touch, twists and knots of emotion, alive, and quick, and _real_ like the present.

The Noblesse knows, from hearing it in little bits, piecing together the puzzle, that this story is a cautionary tale. He has learned what a devil is. What a god is. The devil is an evil being. The gods are deities who are good. And the doctor. He, of course, is the thing to be cautioned against.

* * *

"Did you hear what happened to that human?" Festus asks Amos.

They are Agvain Clan guards in Lukedonia's Room of Discipline where there currently is only one prisoner — a sparse cell housing a Landegre Knight who refused orders to return from the field. It is the middle of the night and they have ten minutes for the guard change to happen; two which they make use of the actual change, eight for small talk.

"Hm? What human?"

"The human."

"Yes? What about him? He's dead."

"What?! Who told you that?"

"No one needs to tell me that. He's been eviscerated into a million particle pieces." Amos shrugs half-heartedly, but chuckles at the same time. Chains clink in the cell as their prisoner stirs.

* * *

Sometimes, when the mansion shifts in its iridescence just so, it is different. There is light flickering from the windows. Long hours into the night. Every night. They glow like tiny flames in a dark, distant void; like reflective gleams of a mirror far; eyes in the pitch black. Alive. Watching.

Sometimes smoke unfurls from the chimney, two chimneys, _three_ , like distress signals trailing in the sky. A black line in white cloud. Everyone knows well not to go towards them.

Sometimes, even, there are strange sounds that come from the usually quiet, placid mansion.

It may merely be a trick of the iridescent barrier. It may even be a sudden whimsy of its owner. But the nobles who have no choice but to see, hear, grow uneasy.

* * *

"I kind of feel bad for him, you know? Like you feel for an animal. Poor human was quick enough to slip through the Kertia Clan Leader and Landegre Clan Leader's fingers, but dumb enough to walk into that mansion." Amos laughs again, a bit louder. He's older than Festus, a veteran of the minor rebellion. He's old enough to have seen the _Noblesse_ himself in action. "He's dead."

_An image blossoms: an arched, broken man on the floor. Blood erupting from every pore. His back snapping, deforming. His body dusting away, atomised into nothingness. A memory. Amos's._

Festus shakes her red head hotly. "He's not dead. If he was dead the entire Mergas Clan would be singing our Noblesse's praises."

They both know why. The human had heavily embarrassed the Mergas Clan Leader, who's clan for centuries had overseen Lukedonia's defences by shielding and cloaking them from the outside world. After months of investigations and re-investigations, no one to this day had come up with an adequate answer as to how the human had breached their security.

Amos bristles. He doesn't like invoking the name of the Noblesse, even in casual tones such as this. Festus shifts her spear from one hand to the other, brushes back a strip of hair. She regrets saying it.

It sounds a little…accusatory.

_(Accusatory to who, exactly?)_

* * *

Disturbances happen. An unusually dark energy quakes the pine forests of Lukedonia. It is purple and glows like embers. Where the dark energy has touched, vegetation fails to grow, and leaves turn to dust. It has put two nobles in the healing bay for touching it's corrosive glow, and the Kertia Clan Leader is present to investigate.

"So it's true," a Kertia Knight says at his Clan Leader's side. "…He…he is still alive. He's using his powers upon the land."

The Kertia Clan Leader tugs at his mask.

"…How could this happen?" the Knights chatter behind him. "How could he be given free reign like this?"

"He killed our people! He killed Ligur! He killed Garth!"

"My Clan Leader, you must say something to Him!"

"Silence."

The Kertia Clan Leader's voice is a whisper on the wind, but it stills his men to vehement attention.

"Do not," he says, very quietly, "question the judgment of our Noblesse again."

The Knights bow to their Clan Leader.

"Report back to the Kertia Estate to receive punishment. Then perhaps you will think of what you speak with more pertinence."

* * *

"The human has been kept alive…" Festus adds, softly. "It's not just I who thinks this. There are others. Others who've _seen_ him."

_An image: a man — a beast — tall and gangly. Untrimmed hair covering its terrible eyes. Its body is made of purple fire, and its eyes, cold, blue ice, and the nobles tell their fellow nobles no human wears skin as convincingly as—_

"Doesn't matter," Amos says. He bends a little, smiles a reassuring smile at her. For her. "The human is a prisoner of our Noblesse. Trust in _Him_ ," he nods. "…You don't have to be afraid of the human."

"I'm not afraid."

" 'Course not." But he reassures her, "If he's not dead now, he will be. He is completely inhibited."

"No," comes the prisoner from the cell. A white-haired Landegre who wraps his hands around the bars and stares hauntingly forward. "No he isn't. He's still outside…he's been freed…that human — that _human_ still walks the earth," the man mumbles, spastic. "He'll kill more nobles…I know he will!" the prisoner raves, "He'll kill more."

_—A man._

_A beautiful man. Long, cherubic curls flutter into his face, the ends of his bow tie carry in the wind. He laughs. Laughing and laughing. Laughing to death. Laughing to insanity._

_Laughing at you._

_Arrest me if you can, oh great nobles—_

Amos hits his axe to the cell bars: a loud, reverberating, obscene clang. It vibrates violently beneath their feet. "Shut up, Prasis." Prasis withdraws, and Amos looks poisonously down at him between the bars. "I won't listen to slander against our Noblesse."

Prasis flinches. He backs away into the dark of the cell. They change guards.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a hideous beast, who once was a human man. The humans had told tales about how he sliced apart dead bodies to look at what was inside. He liked to look at people before they died, and he liked to split their organs apart to look at that, and if he couldn't find dying people he'll kill them himself. It was sacrilege. The nobles didn't know back then, that he had started a thing called an 'experiment.' He had experimented on humans, and when he was bored of that he began experimenting on nobles. Stalking the woods, hunting nobles. Staking mutants, luring them in. Dragging them away, a dozen dozen forced disappearances. Whatever he did to them must have worked, because he found out about their Soul Weapons.

A Soul Weapon, afforded only to the Clan Leaders of the nobles, was a sacred thing. To call upon the tangible love, loyalty and soul of ancestors past was the greatest gift and privilege a noble could have, and all revered this. And the human, laughably, says he has one. Like a Soul Weapon is — is a _thing_ to be owned. A thing that can be manufactured. A trophy to be coveted. It's as hilarious as it is insulting.

They say it's so disgusting, even the Noblesse would turn his head at the thought.

* * *

Tonight, the mansion is unlit.

* * *

In the dark of the Room of Discipline, a noble approaches Festus.

"Amos? Something wrong? Next change-over is ages away."

But it is not Amos. The noble has long, blonde hair falling gracefully onto a strange, foreign attire.

Festus reaches for her spear. "Who are you?" she demands, but she already knows the answer. "Explain yourself!" she shouts, but he doesn't have to. "…I'm warning you."

_Arrest me if you can._

Behind her, the bars of the cell begin to rattle. "No…no! Please, I didn't do _anything!"_

Prasis sounds distressed. Prasis babbles on and on, pleading and crying until his words turn into mush between desperate sobs. Like a pig at slaughter. Knife at the throat. Prasis was an interrogator himself in the Central Order Knights, the renowned Landegre 12. It chills Festus to her bone.

The human doesn't laugh. He doesn't even look at her. His eyes are fixed on a point behind her.

_"I didn't do anything to you—Oh…oh Lord…I did nothing! Nothing I swear, I swear it — Frankenstein!"_

Frankenstein begins his march forward. His shoes clack at a calm, leisurely pace. _Clack. Clack. Clack._

_"Lord, no! Oh, Noblesse! Oh, let the Noblesse know I am innocent I am innocent I did nothing I didn't—"_

"Garth." Frankenstein says. "Garth of Clan Kravei. Do you remember him?"

_"Gar...No, nononono, I didn't do it didn't I didn—"_

Festus doesn't try to shout another warning. She strikes — and is struck down by a bolt of — of dark, dark aura, staking one arm behind her back. She continues attacking, nevertheless, groaning in pain that sends shocks up her spine, but the human catches her spear in his hand and with one simple nudge, twists it out of her grip like taking candy from a child.

He spins it gracefully in an arc.

_"NO! PLEASE!"_

As Festus loses consciousness, she has one spare moment to think: _He's good with spears._

* * *

By morning, every single noble across Lukedonia, across the human world, too, is aware.

There is a creature out there, it gorges on noble blood once more—

And it is loose in Lukedonia.

* * *

"The Lord is wise," greets a noble 

"The Lord is wise," greets another.

Renfis, a maker of gowns, is a civilian who has never touched a weapon in her life. She spends her time honing her craft, weaving threads of aura into noble garments in royal black. The aura weaved into them makes the fabric tenable and suited for temperate times or cold, and gives it its distinctive sheen. As she works she listens to Ahaan, a fellow tradesmen who herself cuts jewellery into perfect, symmetrical shapes. Ahaan praises the Noblesse.

"Did you hear? I heard He called upon that criminal to be returned to him."

Criminal: she means the human. He's all anyone thinks about these days.

"Justice is a due that demands to be paid. The Noblesse is just," Ahaan says. "The Noblesse is just," she reassures kindly.

Renfis just keeps working.

Renfis thinks: once, she had a brother. A brother who was a Knight. A Knight who rejoiced at the opportunity to walk outside this island nation with a position within the Central Order. A Knight who rejoiced at the thought of serving Lukedonia as their progenitor did before them. Renfis rejoiced too. Her brother, a Knight. Her brother, the pride and joy of her line. On the day of his mission she gave him a charm she purchased from Ahaan, a bright ruby gem and her best work for a dear friend. It comes back to her wrapped in an envelope.

Her brother was in Kravei Squad 4.

* * *

(Circulation of images of the Lord is strictly prohibited upon pain of death.)

TRANSCRIPT: THE THRONE ROOM.

CLAN LEADERS AGVAIN, LANDEGRE, KRAVEI (at the scene) with an audience with HIS EMINENCE, THE LORD OF LUKEDONIA.

COUNCIL PRESENT: CLAN LEADERS BLERSTER, DROSIA, ELENOR, KERTIA, LOYARD, MERGAS, RU, SIRIANA, TRADIO.

LANDEGRE: Lord, you must know why we have called for your audience.

THE LORD: Hmmm… (pause.) Is it because it's the Werewolf Lord's birthday? (startled.) Did I forget to send a present again?

LANDEGRE: I…no…I…

KRAVEI: Lord. Many are discontented with the handling of the forced disappearances of our Central Order Knights. The culprit is presently upon our lands and within our jurisdictions. We, Lord, gather here today as Clan Leaders to ask for your orders on how to proceed with the human's further transgression. A premeditated murder has happened right under our noses. Your subjects demand an explanation (pause.) and justice be served.

(The Lord uncrosses his arms. His Eminence leans forward keenly. His expression is neutral.)

LANDEGRE: The victim was a Knight of my clan. One taken to the Room of Discipline for refusing to be assigned back to Lukedonia. He was caught before deserting his post and returned forthrightly. (pause.) I am afraid he was afflicted with hysteria. Prasis H. was convinced…a certain creature…had made Lukedonia its hunting ground.

(Silence.)

(From the Council) KERTIA: This is a first time offence. Frankenstein has not left the Pinewood and mansion grounds since He has taken him in. I can attest to that.

AGVAIN: Can you, Sir Ragar? And why is it that you can attest to this? What's it that you do with that human all day and night in that precious Pinewood of yours?

LANDEGRE: First time offence? I would not say that.

(Council) RU: The number of times he has challenged Clan Leaders to duels should be testament to that.

LANDEGRE: What? No. I stand by my words, he has offended — but not through mere challenges.

(Council) KERTIA: It is no offence if one shall respond as equal.

AGVAIN: It's impossible to respond as equal. 

(Council) BLERSTER: Clan Leaders, please keep your statements pertinent to the matter at hand.

AGVAIN: The matter at hand—Your Eminence My Lord (bows)—is that that human attacked a guard of my clan doing her duty as guard, and committed murder upon our land! (turns, addressing all.) For too long have we ignored his movements. For too long have his misdeeds gone unpunished. Lord, I ask for your orders. (bows)

(Council) LOYARD: Forgive me, Lord (bows) but the human has confessed to the crime without any defence. (clears throat.) If I may, let me review the facts. If I may elaborate upon Sir Ragar's words. The human has remained upon our lands for a number of years without incident. For what reason was this act of violence inspired?

AGVAIN: (loud) Without incident? (Unintelligible.)

(Sir Ragar Kertia bows shortly to Sir Sirius Loyard. Sir Sirius nods his head.)

(Council) TRADIO: Sir Sirius, I'm afraid I do not understand your words. Frankenstein is a known murderer. We have accounts from the humans of his many wrongdoings.

KRAVEI: He has killed many of his own people. He has killed many of ours. I do not see the merits of weighing what 'inspiration' caused his murders now and in the past. What matters is that he will murder again. This notion is clear. Is it not?

(Council) TRADIO: It is abundantly clear.

(Council) KERTIA: That is conjecture.

(Council) DROSIA: Conjecture or not, we cannot ignore propensity. History. (pause.) Ours—or the human's.

LANDEGRE: Frankenstein is dangerous. I will not deny that.

AGVAIN: Hear, hear.

LANDEGRE: But this attack is different from the others. He has made allegations in the past. He has spoken of traitors within our ranks—those who have made contracts with humans, something the Lord has outlawed for nearly millennia. And I (long pause.) I do not think he is void of all truth.

(Council) TRADIO: Traitors? That is an—extraordinary allegation, Gejutel. It is known widely the human purports to hunt contractors, through his own words and ravings. But is there any evidence of this? No. Not years ago, not now. They are empty words of a butcher. My friend, this is an extraordinary allegation to bring to court.

LANDEGRE: My friend, I am earnest. I ask for powers for investigation.

(Council) DROSIA: And will he cooperate with your investigation? No, Sir Gejutel, he will refuse, as he did when he first arrived. Why is this? (inquiring.) Corroborating his stories is the last thing on his mind.

AGVAIN: He killed your own clansman, Sir Gejutel.

(Council) KERTIA: The human must be investigated.

AGVAIN: The human must be put down!

(Council) RU: Hear, hear.

(Council) ELEANOR: Hear, hear.

(Council) BLERSTER: Frankenstein is a senseless murderer. This is undisputed. Is death not fitting for such dishonour? And how many deaths is he responsible for? How many disappearances against the will?

(Council) MERGAS: (frantic.) I do not understand why we—respectfully—I don't understand why we are discussing this. The question of Frankenstein has hung over our heads for nearly a decade, Lord. That he has gone unpunished for so long is injustice upon the highest grounds! Forgive me for speaking so plainly, Lord, but I—we—ask, once again, for your orders!

(Council) SIRIANA: His use of imitation mind control is well documented. His methods are dark, as are his powers.

(Murmur.)

KRAVEI: I believe the gravity of the situation is understood. We are a majority. Lord, we await your orders. How are we to charge Frankenstein?

THE LORD: (His Eminence puts up his hands.)

(Silence.)

THE LORD: I'm afraid you're all mistaken, friends. Frankenstein is out of my hands.

(His Eminence the Lord wiggles his exalted fingers.)

(Unintelligible.)

(Council) MERGAS: (loud.) Lord!

AGVAIN: (loud.) Lord!

THE LORD: (His Eminence raises his head.) Hear me now, and hear me well, my Clan Leaders. _He_ has him in his custody, does he not? Frankenstein is a human. Since He has requested his return, I have relinquished all jurisdiction over him. I no longer have the right to sentence nor investigate him.

(Murmur. Many incomprehensible sentences spoken in quick succession.)

LANDEGRE: (long pause.)The Noblesse has…(shocked) "requested" his return?

AGVAIN: Sir Raizel asked for him to…(shocked)

LANDEGRE: Personally?

THE LORD: Sir Raizel has judged him. If he deems him worthy, the human will live. If he deems him not. Well, none of us have to worry about that, do we? I have no more power over the Noblesse to the human than I do over the moon to the sea.

KRAVEI: Lord. This cannot be…

THE LORD: And yet it is. Will you speak against the Noblesse, Roctis?

(Silence.)

THE LORD: 'The human' sounds very interesting yet. I wonder when I can meet the man. He's all anyone thinks about in this place.

(Murmur.)

LANDEGRE: Lord, the issue of Frankenstein is still—

(Council) MERGAS: Is there nothing that can be done? Is there nothing to be done about—

LANDEGRE: —contentious, his actions cannot be taken lightly, yet

KRAVEI: —remains a danger, perhaps even to

(Council) MERGAS: —about a criminal as impudent as he? My Lord I—

KRAVEI: Sir Raizel himself

AGVAIN: Lord—

(Council) TRADIO: Lord—

[REDACTED.]

* * *

There is a lot of speculation outside of the official statements, brief, banal notes circulating from mind to mind.

But two facts are made clear:

1) The Noblesse himself requested the human back to his side.

2) The human is not charged for any crimes.

* * *

"The Noblesse is just," Renfis says, but it only a polite greeting, rote memorisation — she isn't really into it.

After all, the Noblesse did nothing when Kravei Squad went missing.

What could possibly make him move such as one death in a cell?

* * *

Agvain Guard, Siriana Guard and Ru Guard are put on patrol upon the streets of Lukedonia.

The streets are awfully quiet.

* * *

For years the Noblesse had kept the criminal human at his side. It was rumour once, bloomed into hearsay, into half-truth, into a open secret no one dares speak.

But the bitterness has remained. They remember their fear and hysteria, now it rises again into something large and bruising like disgrace. The nobles _want_ to speak out. Their grievances have festered like salted old wounds, friend of a friend of a forced disappearance, humiliated clan members who hold their tongues for the prestige of their Clan Leaders, who ball their indignity into tight, hot fists behind their backs when questioned of their loyalty, because they, as a people, _revere_ their Noblesse. He who has watched over them for an eternity strong, He who has spent his life-blood in their name for so long, whom they love and fear.

Any insult to the human, whether you like it or not, is a direct insult to your Noblesse.

Any lack of respect towards the human is, infuriatingly, a blight upon your Noblesse, and considered treason.

The lights are on in the mansion.

Will you choose treason, or indignity?

Many Lukedonians have had to make that choice.

* * *

The humans have a saying.

A thought experiment.

There is a bird. This bird has a very long neck. It is frightful of twittering, and does not spread its wings, seldom uses its claws. When a predator comes near, the bird does the only thing it knows: it burrows its head in the sand. The bird cannot see the predator, the bird cannot hear the predator, therefore its existence is denied, and therefore the danger goes away.

But the predator does not go away.

Yet your head is in the sand. You can pretend it's gone away.

(Do you feel safe?)

* * *

"What do you think of it?"

"What do I think of it? Its insufferable! Lord, if he'd only let me wring that man's neck—"

_Frankenstein's neck, between his fingers. His head, lolling backwards._

_Crack._

Zarga rolls his eyes. "Calm yourself, Urokai. It's unbecoming."

"Unbe— have you _seen_ him! Mooning around our Noblesse like — like its an exotic animal to be _preened_ and _groomed_. Prancing around like he owns the place, just because the Noblesse _speaks_ to him."

_Frankenstein, prowling around the Noblesse, fingers sliding up his arm._

_Smirk._

Zarga groans.

The Clan Leaders of Siriana and Agvain sit in the high, natural terraces of the Siriana Estate, surrounded by hanging gardens, crawling vines, and fine collections of vases. There is a wide, gliding waterfall that flows so unbrokenly it glasses one end of the terrace like a mirror. Coincidentally, the Leaders of Siriana and Agvain like to speak of their state affairs here where the sound of the waterfall gives them full privacy.

"FUCK! FUCK! DID YOU SEE ITS SMARMY FUCKING FACE?!"

"I did, Urokai."

"I don't understand Sir Raizel!"

"Urokai," Zarga places a fist upon the table. "Do not forget whom you speak of."

"I don't understand our Noblesse!" Urokai slams his fist onto the tea table. It shatters, showering Zarga's knees with glass. Urokai takes two deep, guttural breaths. "…I don't understand how…how he could give asylum to that human…after all he's done. He abducted a number of anywhere from sixty to one hundred nobles. He killed nobles. There are nobles — there are nobles who are complete _vegetables_ sitting in the Healing Bay. And and and, he, he — _tortured_ that prisoner in the Room of Discipline to death. They had to collect him _twenty parts_. He attacked a member of my guard! Completely premeditated. And he admitted to it! He's admitted to all of it! All of it!"

Urokai collapses at the glassless table. His feet crunch the broken glass, and he bows his head, almost in prayer. "…If He is the protector of the nobles, why does he not take action against the human?" Urokai says. His aura rises like a typhoon, stirring in the middle distance. Threatening to break. "If He is the protector of our principles, why does he not sentence a criminal who has transgressed upon everything he stands for?"

_A noble. Back towards the window. Wind in your face. You beckon to him._

"Why does he take the side of the human, and not us?"

Urokai raises his head, as if questioning, doubting, more than ever; and Zarga has the answers.

"I understand your feelings, Urokai." Zarga raises a hand over the table. At once, the shattered glass begins to glow and move, piecing itself together shard by shard, dust by dust. "That human has sown discord and disharmony amidst our people. It has exploited the weaknesses in our system. It…"

Urokai beckons to Zarga with a searching look. "Speak, Zarga."

_The noble doesn't look back._

"It has led astray our Noblesse."

* * *

Speaking is treason. Silence is a virtue.

But the human, being human, cannot hear their thoughts.

_Have you heard what happened to that human?_

_Dead. He ran headfirst like a brainless imp into our Noblesse's domain._

_Serves him right._

_But I heard he was given sanctuary._

_I heard he corrupts all that he has touched._

_I heard the Noblesse favours him like a curious plaything._

_I heard he warms up the Noblesse's bed._

* * *

Take your head out of the sand.

_The Noblesse is harbouring a criminal._

* * *

The Kravei Clan Leader meets the Siriana Clan Leader in secret.

"Sir Zarga."

"Sir Roctis."

"How did the Agvain Clan Leader fare?"

"Urokai will join our ranks."

"You are certain?"

"I am certain."

Roctis sighs pleasantly. It makes Zarga think of him in a less diplomatic light. He seems too bothered by the human. Urokai is a youngling yet, easily riled, but nothing has suggested the human will pose an actual threat.

A pest is a pest is a pest and as easily squashed whether it be an ant or aphid or wasp.

(But, better keep it within your sight.)

* * *

Loras says to Heath, "There are traces of him in the Pinewood again. He's being allowed out."

Heath grunts. She's having trouble fixing her pike to her back with one arm. Loras still has two arms, but his injury has completely incapacitated him. He is no longer a Knight. He has been relieved from Mergas Squad 1. Heath seems unsurprised by his news.

"I hate Frankenstein." Loras laughs bitterly.

Heath looks at him. She looks at him like he's a child in tantrum, saying a bad, bad curse word. And he is. He is.

Loras looks down, ashamed. "…I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't know what I was thinking. The Noblesse is—"

"You're right."

"What?"

Heath looks him in the eyes, pike in hand. "The Noblesse. _Protector of Nobles._ _Protector of our principles._ But where was he when Claude went missing? Where was he when he killed that Landegre in his cell, awaiting discipline? Who does he protect. Nobles? Or that criminal?"

Loras swallows. She cannot be saying this. This is…sacrilege. Sedition. This is an affront to Lukedonia, this is treachery given voice. He can report this. He should report this.

Of course he doesn't.

(He’s already had plenty practice at that.)

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a man who found Lukedonia. He acted always haughty and vainglorious, and he hid like a coward in the mansion in the wood. It was well known he used his time to play with fire. All his life he played with fire, always cupping it in his hands and watching it burn. He liked fire so much, and he played with fire all his life until one day, fire ceased to burn him. He had conquered fire, so he began to taunt the nobles with it. He killed with the fire. He loved to watch things burn. He liked the sound of it too. Good to the ears. He killed people and mutants and nobles with his burning spear made of fire, all with a smile upon his face.

The nobles hated the man. Not only was he as _insufferable human_ with an overinflated ego — he was a criminal — a boundless murderer whom everyone in the land knew held undisputed power to put down nobles. The first human in all of history, noble and mankind, to do so. But this was not what inflamed them most, no.

This human had behind him the protection of the Noblesse.

* * *

"I fear for your safety." Roctis rises in his seat, bids the Noblesse to listen by bowing low and opening his mind, inviting him in. "We are unable to discover his background or any trace of his kin. But his name rings far and wide. You must know this already, Sir Raizel. He is no friend to the humans. He is despised by his own people. He's a _fugitive_ to them. I have never seen such hate from humanity than when I speak his name. He knows this as well as we — that he is dangerous — if only because his powers are unbalanced, never mind his poisonous temperament. But it is much more than that. His crimes against nobles are remembered. Now, Sir Raizel, I do not question your judgment upon this issue, that I dare not. But please," Roctis pleads, shutting his eyes and looking more aged than ever, "you must keep your guard against his manipulations. There are too many stories. You know this. You keep a snake under your watch. And a snake knows not warmth. Nor compassion."

The Noblesse nods once and turns away. "Thank you for your visit, Roctis. You are heard."

"Then forgive me for my impertinence. But I have a proposal. It is true Frankenstein cannot leave Lukedonia, now that he has come. He is too dangerous for that. The Lord himself ordered his capture. But, Sir, I am happy to take this burden off your weary hands. I will have Frankenstein housed at the House of Kravei in my own clan."

The Noblesse turns to him with pensive eyes. "Your concerns are heard. But Roctis…understand that Frankenstein is free to leave this place as he pleases. You may make your proposal directly to him."

"—Please consider."

"And I," the Noblesse says, "am never unguarded."

Roctis's eyes widen. He bows low, then takes his leave.

* * *

_Have you heard about that human?_

_I heard he's no prisoner._

_He's a pet._

A pampered, favoured, well-loved one at that. An exotic, caged peacock kept at the expense of noble lives and noble honour.

* * *

_Perhaps the Noblesse should learn to tighten its leash._

_How do you know there is a leash?_

* * *

Once there was a terrible human, who stalked the woods, eating mutants, blaspheming against the nobles, killing his own people to make himself strong. The humans, who had had enough of his black magics, his devil-touched ways, said: please take him away. The nobles, who had seen him transgress, disgusted and repulsed, answered: yes, enough is enough. So they plucked him from the land like a cancer at its root. The people rejoiced.

_Hooray! Hooray!_

_Frankenstein is gone! Dead! Disappeared!_

_We are free!_

And they believed this, because the nobles assured them so, and the human, so greedy, had swallowed up every mutant in the wood.

_(So far.)_

* * *

Heath says to the leader of a hundred successful battles, the head of an elite recon squad, Mergas Squad 1, "The intel I've collected is recent. Mutant numbers have proliferated, Commander."

Dumas sighs, brings two fingers to the bridge of his nose. His nose is wonky, it's been broken in three places and healed too quick. The burn scars on his arms have almost disappeared, but not quite, and they peek up at the bend in his wrist.

"It's true," he says, tired. "Human greed will only ever spawn more. But nobles. Nobles are involved in the chain creating mutants at its source."

What they don't think: _What is different from the human world then — and now?_

What they don't ask: _Did the human know?_

"What shall we do?" Heath asks.

"I will personally lead a team. Ready Mergas Squad 1 once again."

But that is clearly not enough. And the Mergas Clan Leader will certainly not authorise.

Heath thinks. "What about another recon group from another clan? What about Loyard Squad 2?"

Dumas thinks. "Send for request."

* * *

The squads disappear overnight.

* * *

The Clan Leaders of Agvain, Siriana and Kravei travel back together after a visit to their Noblesse.

Upon the way back, they run into a man on the road.

"Frankenstein," Roctis greets. His lips curl into a pleasant smile. "I see that you are on your way back to the mansion. What a coincidence, we go in the same direction. This time we accompany Zarga, he also wishes to give well greetings to the Noblesse. Urokai, this is Frankenstein. Frankenstein, Urokai—"

"We've _met,"_ Urokai says shortly.

"We were just on our way—"

"—I shall excuse myself then." Frankenstein brushes past them without another word.

Roctis stays still. "You've met the Lord today."

Frankenstein stops. He glances back, intrigued. "Why do you ask?"

"What was your impression of our Lord? You must have been quite surprised. From the perspective of a human, he must seem carefree." Roctis chuckles a little, a deep sound rumbling in his chest. His dark hair blends into his dark coat as he turns, like shadows shifting. "I wonder what the Lord asked you, for the first time in ten years of your…stay, here."

"If you're curious, why don't you go ask him yourself," Frankenstein says immediately.

"Cocky bastard! You talk with such impunity — just because the Lord and Sir Raizel _speak_ to you once in a blue moon!" Urokai seethes. "Don't _think_ —Don't _think_ I'll let you get away with this forever."

"Who said anything of the kind?" Frankenstein remarks.

"What'd you say?!"

Frankenstein smiles amiably. "You're welcome to do something about me, whenever you want."

Urokai flinches. Visibly, he pulls back, a million miles of thought slamming into his head at once. He knows to think very carefully about what he says next, even as the words bubble like bile up from his throat, as they brim bodily against gritted teeth.

_Treachery? Or indignity?_

"You little…"

Zarga takes one long step between them. "Urokai…"

"You…if _you_ don't leave that mansion this instant I swear to you, you will face consequences."

* * *

Urokai, as ever, chooses treachery.

* * *

"—I will say it — I will say it loudly, over and over again. This land is no place for scum like you, and you'll disappear yourself from my sight if you know what's good for you, Frankenstein! A greedy, despicable human like you wouldn't slink at His side unless you had some kind of agenda! Whatever it is, Frankenstein, you can be sure I'll find out!"

* * *

_Did you hear about Sir Agvain?_

_He questioned the Noblesse's judgment. Called the Noblesse blind to his senses. Spat in the face of divine judgment. He insulted the human, and he insulted the human's keeper, and let a hundred thousand nobles embolden themselves against despotism so blatant, injustice so brazen._

_Did you hear about Sir Again?_

_He hates the human._

… _I hate the human._

_I hate the human!_

_I hate the human!_

_I hate every single greedy, despicable human because the only human anybody's been thinking about hearing about knowing about is the creature that stalks Lukedonia the human who hunts nobles the criminal that Clan Leaders can't catch that people scream about in their minds reverberating around closed echo chambers like a stone dropped down an endless well, Frankenstein Frankenstein Frankenstein…_

* * *

Frankenstein tilts up his chin. "Why are you so interested in me?"

"Of course we are interested," Roctis says simply. "It's unusual for a human to reside in Lukedonia"

"Everyone has their own personal reasons why they dislike me." Frankenstein's head tips to one side, a curious tone in his voice. As if he might be inspecting goods at a market. Or marvelling at a novel occasion. "But the tendency seems to be stronger in you three. I've heard six Clan Leaders, including the three of you, visit Sir Raizel quite frequently. You are aware Sir Raizel doesn't like visitors. Yet unlike the other Clan Leaders, you insist on visiting him. You treat Sir Raizel's words as absolute, just like the Lord's commands."

He sounds fascinated. Frankenstein smiles again. "It's exasperating to watch."

"What are you trying to imply," Zarga says.

"Let me put it this way. Humans keep a close eye on things that disturb them. It reassures them to keep the object of their ire within their sight. From a human perspective, I must think _you_ have an agenda behind your actions."

Urokai shouts out. "YOU LITTLE—"

"You take our visits with Sir Raizel to be malevolent," Roctis says. It is not a question. And Frankenstein knows.

Frankenstein huffs. "Ah, only from a _human_ perspective. Since you three are not _human_ …you needn't concern yourself with my musings…

"Do you?"

* * *

Lagus Tradio hands over a necklace charm to Urokai.

"The humans supporting our cause are confident this will cause him to lose control."

* * *

Loras lies in wait. He waits and waits, until one day his waiting pays off as the creature — the human — appears at the outskirts of the Pinewood, and Loras's mind blinks red. He takes his decommissioned sword at his side, unsheathes it in one smooth motion, and lurches at Frankenstein.

He _hits_ him.

A hair's-breadth spurt of blood mists into the air, a cut on his cheek. Blond hair tosses to one side as Frankenstein manoeuvres at the last second and pins his hand to Loras's face, pushes his head into the ground, _hard._

"HEATH! HEATH!" Loras screams between his fingers, which spark with dark power, "WHERE IS SHE?! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?! HEATH! MERGAS 1!"

Loras spins his sword in his hand, strikes at his throat. Frankenstein catches it with his other hand, carries the momentum forward, wedges it fully into the ground. Loras kicks, Frankenstein jumps off him. Before he can attack again Frankenstein raises a clawed hand, a purple glow, and four dark projectiles shoot out of thin air, pins Loras to a tree through two hands, one ankle, one thigh.

Loras screeches.

"…Who are you?" Frankenstein looks at Loras. Recognition swims in his face.

But Loras doesn't care, all he can do is struggle at his bonds, screaming, screaming, "HEATH!"

Frankenstein's eyes narrow slowly. "…What happened to Mergas 1?"

Loras tells him. "I know it's you…I know you took them!" he screams, in pain, and in aggrieved trance. "Just like — you took Claude!"

Frankenstein starts laughing.

He laughs and laughs. Just like Loras remembers.

"At least you're forthright!" Frankenstein exclaims, pleased. "So I'll tell you. I haven't set foot in the human world for ten years. Make of that what you will."

* * *

_Have you heard about that human?_

_He's challenged Sir Agvain to a duel._

* * *

He stands on the dusty battleground before the pacing, stalking form of the Agvain Clan Leader. His hands, gloved at his side, are perfectly at ease. His hair, gold silk, flows freely down his shoulders. His long bowtie is exquisitely knotted, collar stiff and starched, laced cuffs fanned like blossoms, everything tailored to perfection as though he is attending thé dansant.

Before him, the Clan Leaders of Tradio, Kravei, Siriana, Landegre, Kertia watch. Behind him, the people of Lukedonia, civilians and Knights and everything in between, judge.

For many of them, this is the first time they've ever seen the human.

He has a strong jaw and a sharp chin, slight smile lines that are employed at present. He looks off the stage, away from the line of Clan Leaders — he cares nothing of them — away from the amassing crowd of Lukedonians, too — beneath his notice — and is comfortably unattached. His eyes are centred, looking straight ahead at his opponent. It is hubris without a trace of self-awareness or pity. The corner of his mouth curls fluently into an almost grin.

There is no fire, no brimstone. No claws or monstrous teeth. He's made of skin and bone and blood.

He's just a human.

They're going to watch him die here.

* * *

**_"Answer my call, Dark Spear."_ **

* * *

Indulge in another human novelty.

Another thought experiment.

There is a circular building. Inside stands a human in the round. The human cannot leave this place. The human cannot see out of this place. This place is The Panopticon: it can be compared to the Lukedonian Room of Discipline, but there are no bars nor guards, only small window hatches. Small viewing lens the size of keyholes. A mirror that only reflects one-way. A number of guards may stand outside the round, keeping watch upon the human. Keeping security upon the human. Keeping vigilance upon the human.

The human may be watched at any time by any number of guards.

The human may be examined at any time, on any day, or at every moment, by one single guard.

Or there can be no guards at all.

The human can't tell.

Does he feel safe?

* * *

The ground shifts and rips apart.

And his cries thunder into the air like a million, million strangled voices threaded as one, shaking the land and dispersing the clouds above, he thinks in the language of hot wrath and fury, hate so palpable you can taste it in the atmosphere — the Again Clan Leader's eye is on the ground — the people run — the Clan Leaders move, upon their defences — the imitation soul weapon, dead humans screaming, blazes like an inferno — he teeters precariously — shoulders and limbs contorting, purple sickness crawled up his body, consuming him whole, mid-possession — his hands extend into claws, act as counterweights as he thrashes, and then he's moving — gliding through the air like a creature of bloodlust he is — white-eyed, burning, burning—

He _is_ the thing that haunts Lukedonia, stoking the fears of Central Order Knights, of noble civilians in their home, and he has _not_ conquered fire, he is burning alive, burning like hell, right in front of them.

* * *

_Flee! Flee!_

_Run!_

_Renfis run!_

_Is—what is that?! Who is that?_

_Is that the Lord?_

_He's with the Noblesse._

_Our Noblesse has come!_

_The Noblesse! The Noblesse is just!_

_The Noblesse will punish it! Put it down!_

_Finally, our Noblesse—_

* * *

"Did you hear what happened to that human?" Amos asks Festus one day.

Festus looks up. "I watched him, with mine own eyes, _attack_ the Noblesse."

She huffs hotly, like Amos has just asked her what exactly happens to a snail that's been stepped on. What happens to sugar when you put it in tea. What happens to writing in sand when the tide comes in.

"I'll give you three guesses, yea?"

Amos's jaw clenches.

"Amos. He's dead."

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a great angel, whose power was ethereal and right to judgment was divine. He did his duty well, sentencing those who had transgressed against power, punishing those who had dared dirty themselves with contracts with lowly humans, killing dissidents, abusers of power, tyrants, fugitives, criminals; and in his light, by all, was he beloved and feared. One day a snake came slithering to his side, and whispered sweet things into his ear, and sang sweet songs on the sill, and dripped poison from its fangs into a cup, and asked, sweetly, for him to drink it.

And the angel. The angel raised his glass, toasted the air, and gave his cheers. 

He drank it.

* * *

_An addendum:_

(And it was delicious.)

* * *

Amos shakes. His jaw works and his knuckles snap. "He's not dead. The Noblesse…I've seen what he does to nobles he deems unworthy…"

Right. Amos is a veteran. Fought back the minor rebellion. Saw the Noblesse in his prime. Saw him smite criminals into particles. Removed from reality. That's why he holds him in such high regard. That's why he follows him unquestioningly. The Noblesse is just.

"That…that was no sentencing," Amos spits. "He saved the human. Our Noblesse saved that _wretch_ of a soul."

_Red. Anger and dry kindling bursting aflame. Bodies dusting away, illegal contractors, expansionists, traitors—one after the other. A mansion in the woods. Festus unconscious on cell floors. Their Clan Leader holding his face. Amos's strong arms around a purple, flaming neck. He's so fucking angry. He's fucking livid. He says—_

"The Noblesse has betrayed us."

(Sand in his hair.)

Festus fidgets. "You don't know that."

"Then why are our people still going missing?!" Amos says. "HE'S still alive!"

Mergas Squad 1 and Loyard Squad 2 have been missing for over a year.

(Light in the house.)

* * *

Urokai howls in rage in the secret meeting at the Siriana Estate. Zarga stops his fist, mid-motion, from breaking another table. Urokai huffs, chest rising and falling in great waves.

"And you weren't supposed to lose your composure," the Tradio Clan Leader says sagely; nothing was wrong. "No matter. Roctis has our affairs in the human world in order. Though it was a valuable demonstration of what that human could do. The human is powerful. You understand what you did wrong, Urokai?"

Zarga swallows thickly.

A pest is a pest is a pest because of how it sinks into your walls and nests neat and cosy beneath your nose and spawns a million, million more problems so entrenched until you can't get it out.

Urokai turns, one black socket staring back.

(Did you keep a good enough eye on it?)

* * *

The human walks through the Pinewood, back towards Amos. He has heard from half a dozen people about this location, this clearing in the dense, packed wood. The air is still and it's so very silent he could hear a pin drop from across the island, and then he is suddenly aware that the sound of his own thumping heartbeat is overcome with the sound of storm cackling in the distance. Frankenstein's arm is in the air. He shifts right. The clouds ripple right, lightning cackles. He shifts left. The clouds squirm left. It moves, bloated, as if something is trapped inside. Squirming at his beck. Waiting for its call.

"A month or two and your skills to sneak up on me mysteriously evaporates?" Frankenstein says. "I will not have your pity."

Has he seen Amos? Felt him? Amos lurches out of the greenery, attacks. Amos knows his limits, he cannot fight that imitation Soul Weapon _(he can barely stomach it);_ but he is a broad man with a great axe in one hand and a hammer in the other, and he has waited a long time to use it.

As Frankenstein dodges the first blow his brows skyrocket. He looks to Amos, each of his weapons, amused. " _Haha._ What do you suppose you can do to me?" he says. "Have you not seen how fashionable Urokai's new eye patch is? Shiny thing, isn't it?"

"My name is Amos," the noble spits. "And this is for _Him!"_

He moves. Frankenstein does too. Amos is strong, he snaps thick tree trunks like twigs beneath his hammer, and slices the ground apart into great chasms like a trench. He cuts and cuts, quicker than can be expected, hammering the ground to cause Frankenstein to lose balance. Amos comes at him with the axe — Frankenstein jumps — but in the opposite direction comes the hammer — Frankenstein catches it in full force.

He's knocked to the ground. Amos shouts out — gleeful! — unwedges his axe from the ground —

Frankenstein gets up. Grinning.

But he doesn't tear the Amos into pieces, because the Kertia Clan Leader, alerted by the noise, had appeared at the noble's side, whispered into reality. "Drop your weapon, Guard."

_"No! —Frankenstein— don't think He will—"_

But Amos catches the Kertia Clan Leader's eyes and loses his train of thought.

* * *

"You were attacked. You were slow to deal with the threat," Ragar accuses.

Frankenstein pats a hand to his chest, gesturing sarcastically. "Me? Attacked? I'd hardly noticed."

Ragar's face pinches in its usual crinkled-paper-like way. "This Guard. He meant to take your life."

"Oh. No?" Frankenstein makes a face. It does not fit his current frame of mind. "Why on earth _else_ would he attack me?"

Ragar weighs the response. He unveils the hidden meanings behind his sharp words with surgical effort. It takes time, and Frankenstein grows disinterested. Frankenstein circles the downed noble, one elbow resting in a hand, crossed against his chest. Two fingers tap on a lip. He doesn't realise it; or otherwise doesn't think Ragar can: this is a defensive position.

"…This has happened before."

"I've been _attacked_ on average five times a week," Frankenstein announces. "What? I'm easy to find, I'm always here. I was getting a little antsy waiting for you. This one here was filling in your absence." He sighs, unfolds his arms. "Shall we begin?"

"This is not one of your games, Frankenstein."

"Of course not. I was attacked. Didn't you hear?"

"Listen. Listen well, Frankenstein."

"I hardly think—"

Ragar rockets forward, pushes Frankenstein hard until his back hits a tree, his head knocking back on it violently. "Do you think this is a game? Do you _think_ this is some useless game? You cannot allow yourself to be attacked like some—common fowl in a hunting ground. Do you hear me? You will not let yourself be associated as a laughing stock. _Attack you?_ That may be a fool's errand. I admit. But you will not let Sir Raizel be disgraced. Sir Raizel will not be debased through the likes of _you."_

Ragar lets go of his collar. Frankenstein grunts, pushes him off; he lets him.

"What do you mean? What has this got to do with Sir Raizel?"

_This is for Him!_

Him: the Noblesse.

Ragar shuts his eyes, quelling his anger. "Think," Ragar says. "Think from a _noble_ perspective. You reside with the Noblesse. You are judged by Him and awakened by Him and still stand before me. You realise you are under His _protection."_ Ragar's eyes flicker up, red and blazing. "From a _noble_ perspective, Frankenstein, any attack on your person is now an attack unto the Noblesse. Any insult to your name is thus an insult upon the Noblesse." His voice comes back down to a murmur. "Do you understand me?"

Frankenstein stares at him. He has that look he had on upon the cliffside. Cornered and caught. "They despise Sir Raizel because of me. Don't they?"

Now it is Ragar's turn to be very interested in the downed noble. "You shouldn't listen to them. It's sedition. Dissidence. And it disgusts me. But the idea has been planted." Ragar turns to him. "Do not listen."

"I can't hear them."

_In the panopticon, you cannot see them, you cannot hear them._

Frankenstein uncurls his fist, relaxing abruptly. "They think Sir Raizel harbours a criminal."

"They think Sir Raizel has been swayed by undue influence."

* * *

A list of Lukedonian courtesy.

Him: Noblesse

Minor rebellion: civil war.

Eternal sleep: death.

Attacking Frankenstein: demonstrating displeasure with Him.

Displeasure: utter, frenzied resentment.

* * *

"And what if…what if Sir Raizel and I are…"

"Are what?" Ragar says.

Frankenstein looks away. "Nothing."

* * *

_Did you hear what happened to Mergas Squad 1? Loyard 2?_

_No._

_Neither have I._

* * *

_Did you hear what happened to the Noblesse?_

_He betrayed us._

* * *

"Did you hear what happened to that human?" one Landegre civilian says to a Landegre Knight.

"…No. Tell me."

"Once upon a time there was a man. He was a vindictive butcher who did not value his experiment subjects well so much as he cared about beating death. One day his experiments lay dying, and there was nothing he could do. He was arrogant, as he saw their deaths as an offence to his own skill. The story goes he speaks to the nobles to no avail, so he goes instead to the Noblesse, who grants his wishes in exchange for his turning against the nobles. The human, who ever only cared about collecting power, greedy as greedy humans are; who thought eternal life could mean he could gain as much power as he wished to do so, agreed. They say that is why you should not go into the Pinewood alone. The human is still alive, and his powers are unparalleled, and he stalks the night hunting us nobles for food…"

 _"What?!"_ The Knight violently pushes the table away from him, leaping to his feet, mouth agape. He has just returned from the 12th squad of his clan operating in the human world. He is speechless for a moment. "No — no that's not the story. That's not how it goes. The man cared about his patients! He cared for his people."

"What? Are you delirious? He betrayed his own race. He slaughtered nobles. He eats flesh."

"He-he killed illegal contractors, mutants! But—"

"And the Noblesse enabled him."

"…That's not how the story goes," says Visenya.

* * *

Frankenstein is a man.

And a man, is just a man is just a man. But he has been outlived by his own tale.

Indulge. A thought experiment: what if Frankenstein doesn't really…exist anymore.

Frankenstein isn't a man. Frankenstein isn't even human.

He is a terrible _idea._

And no one, not the story teller, nor the story subject, nor the story hearer, can control how feral an idea grows.

No one is immune to ideas.

* * *

The Clan Leaders Mergas, Loyard, Blerster, Ru and Eleanor sit in the Loyard Estate. It is an old castle built completely of white marble and white column, and as they speak their voices echo like inside a great cathedral.

"Does the Noblesse truly believe our Knights have sunk so far as to become human contractors? I don't believe it." The Mergas Clan Leader clutches his fingers before his mouth, muffling his words. "He expects us to stand by. While my clansmen are abducted. As if we don't know who the culprit is."

"We cannot prove Frankenstein is the perpetrator," the Eleanor Clan Leader says. "And I must add — Frankenstein has never proved the existence of illegal contractors."

"Just because we cannot prove it beyond all doubt does not mean he is _not_ the perpetrator," says the Ru Clan Leader. She grimaces. "The doubt exists _._ There is a difference."

"Do you think this is a coincidence?"

All turn to the Loyard Clan Leader, Sir Sirius. He looks up, contemplative, silver hair in his eyes. "Can nobody see it? Ten years ago…I deployed Loyard Squad 2 to hunt 'the creature' decimating our people. Ten years ago, Sir Lucerne reinstated Mergas Squad 1 for the same reason. Mergas Squad 1 were the first nobles to come into contact with Frankenstein on record."

"And the first ones to expose him to us," the Blester Clan Leader, Sir Krasis, says stoically.

"Then Loyard 2 followed suit," the Ru Clan Leader adds.

The Eleanor Clan Leader stands suddenly, her nails scrape into marble. "You think this is retaliation."

"Yes, but why now? Why a decade later?"

Lucerne Mergas rises from his seat. Slowly. His aura seething. He, of all of them, has been humiliated the deepest, and he finds it all too hard to swallow now. "What has changed between then and now?" he asks.

"Then, he was nothing but a lone, mad, raving human. Now?"

Silence.

* * *

A noble with crimson hair and red, watery eyes fumbles around the Pinewood. She runs wild, spear in hand, shouting her throat hoarse.

_"Cadis Etrama di Raizel!"_

Festus, Agvain Guard, screams before the Noblesse's mansion that she cannot see. "You _coward!_ You _traitor!_ Bring out _Frankenstein! Bring him out now!"_ she demands.

_"Fuck you! Fuck you Cadis Etrama di Raizel! You hypocrite! How dare you hurt Amos! Put him in the medical bay! He was loyal to you! He was faithful! Hand ov—hand over that human filth!"_

A sound startles her from behind. Glimpse of blue eye.

_"You— AHH—"_

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a terrible Noblesse.

* * *

Cadis Etrama di Raizel stands before his viewing window.

Outside, the nobles speak, and share their minds, and warn their kin, whisper in the wind, believe in open secrets. They cannot see him. They cannot hear him. They are standing in the round of Lukedonia.

Raizel can (see) hear — everything.

Déjà vu.

**Author's Note:**

> **Mergas 1**
> 
> Dumas: disgraced high ranking Knight, then redeemed
> 
> Heath: wields pike as weapon, a realist knight
> 
> Loras: sword, bright-eyed yet somewhat insecure Knight. Decommissioned now. 
> 
> Claude: lobotomised by Franken — early experiment that helped Franken develop noble mind wipe. But at a great expense, admittedly, Claude was innocent.
> 
> **Loyard 2**
> 
> Carpa: twin sickles, first close Franken encounter on record
> 
>  **Kravei 4** (All dead.)
> 
> Ligur: illegal contractor, traitor and mutant maker, Roctis Kravei contact.
> 
> Garth: young Knight. Somewhat peer pressured, but never made mutants. Falls to Franken's side out of compassion for humans, and respect for Lukedonian law against contractors. Murdered by Prasis — Garth was proof of illegal contractors behind the mutant problem. After Franken got to Lukedonia, he found out what happened to Garth.
> 
>  **Landegre 12** (sent to find deserters in p1)
> 
> Prasis: traitor, working with Tradio as contact, killed Garth, avenged by Franken
> 
> Visenya: spread the stories to Lukedonia where it unknowingly takes a life of its own
> 
> **Old Gen Clan Leaders**
> 
> Sir Sirius J Loyard: Seira's father, leader of Loyard 2.
> 
> Sir Lucerne Mergas: well meaning but incompetent leader of Central Order Knights in human world, shields Lukedonia from the outside. Like the minister of foreign affairs.
> 
> **Agvain Guard**
> 
> Festus: guard of the room of discipline, uses arrow-head spear — young enough to have never seen the Noblesse before
> 
> Amos: middle aged veteran of the civil war when Noblesse was last active — super faithful to the Noblesse (until disillusioned)
> 
> **Civilians**
> 
> Renfis: textiles designer and person who makes nobles' sleek black Lukedonian threads. Civilian sister to a Knight in Kravei 4 who died. Radicalised, hates the Noblesse through Frankenstein, who she sees as her brother's killer.
> 
> Ahaan: stone cutter and jeweller. Shows civilian attitudes towards what is going on. Friend of Renfis.
> 
> **Other**
> 
> This fic mentions the Lukedonian civil war that briefly flashed by in ch 396 (in this verse we ignore Rai's bro).
> 
> Franken can be described as an early terrorist — in part 1 he is a radical in every sense of the word. Direct Action.
> 
> The panopticon is based on Bentham's prison concept. The horror of surveillance/ being constantly judged, but completely one-way. Franken himself doesn't know what on earth is happening around him. He can't hear the noble mind connection.
> 
> Raizel is the one guard in the panopticon of Lukedonia. 
> 
> For your entertainment, Franken is MARIE ANTOINETTE, Rai is LOUIS 16, Lukedonia is FRENCH SOCIETY, mutant problem is FINANCIAL CRISIS, traitors are JACOBINS. 
> 
> Next instalment, if I can muster the energy: Franken and Rai set foot back into the human world - a world that has gone ten years without Frankenstein. They must find the missing nobles.


End file.
